Chapter Two

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My Husband's Lover
Nhica Moico
(Edited)

I know that this wound will bleed again
Now I'm here right beside the one I love
I see he's in love with someone else
Now I know I just got to let him go
Because it's over, Help me get over

I don't know what to do
There is no easy way of letting go
But I know there's no sense
In holding on too much to something fading
Help me, Help me
Help me get over you

Now I see, You're so happy with her
Deep inside I just don't know what to feel
Oh, I'm sure, You don't need me anymore
So I'll go on, Try my best to just move on
Now that it's over, I got to get over you

Jonnalyn Viray, Help Me Get Over

 

 

Chapter Two

                The car rocked like a mother swaying on a rocking chair, lulling her baby to sleep. I leaned my head against the window, the coldness of the glass surface coursing through me like cool, icy water. I pressed a hand on the cold window, feeling its coldness seep into my flesh as people's faces blurred past me. I pressed my hand against it the window until it was numb. The realization didn't settle nicely within me. Even after walking down the aisle, the details made me quiver with nerves.  I couldn’t believe, or except the fact, I was married—and not just to any man. But one of the most famous bachelors in the country, my childhood sweetheart. I sighed and rested my chin on my elbows. Jace had been unbelievably quiet and evasive since we got in the car, like he didn’t want to talk to me. Not that was surprising, ever since we were little; he never found a reason to have to talk to me. I was used to it. Snapping out of my thoughts, I watched as the images of places passed by--whirring past me and constantly catching my eye like a mirage, as the car kept on driving.

                I spared Jace a glance out of the corner of my eye, noticing that he was also looking out the window. Like he wished he’d rather be somewhere else than be here with me. As if he wished we didn’t got married in the first place. I sighed. It was for the best of his parents' company, for his parents. And I hoped he'd understand that. To save him and his company from the hell-hole it was drowning now. As I continued soaking in his appearance, I could tell his jaw was set—a muscle twitching impulsively suddenly. I watched him from my side in the white, luxurious limo, studying his stubble chin--which looked like he hadn’t had shaved in quite of a long time. He looked tired. I felt pity for him and I sighed once more. By the time I turned my attention back to the window, we were already stopping in front of a huge mansion. It was the type of house that would definitely scream “big”and couldn’t be mistakenly owned by a rich man. It looked as monumental as a cathedral, and as clean as Greek columns in their pristine white glory.

                I frowned slightly as I realized that there weren’t any signs that normally welcome you as a new wed couple. The honeymoon, the floral decor, being able to spend time with the in-laws...

                Why would there be one, Amy? You and Jace got married because of your parents. He didnt marry the girl of his dreams, he married you, I told myself. It was rational. Jace didn’t marry me for the reason I was hoping, but he married me because of his precious company. I was nobody to him. And it was messed up that I couldn't even classify myself as a gold digger. His parents needed to cleanse his image. I was the mannequin that looked prim, proper, and pretty. That was it. Snapping me out of my thoughts, Jace tapped his foot with impatience and irritation in every beat he drummed; probably very eager to get out and be alone. When the limo came to a halt, he sprang out of motion like a spider leaping from the wall it was imprisoned in. It was as if he didn't want to spend another minute in my presence. Hurt welled inside me, swelling and smothering my throat; my heart clenching and my intestines coiling in anxiety. I carefully gathered the hem of my dress and ushered myself out of the car. I walked towards the driver and clutched my suitcases from him, not wanting to burden him with my personal things.

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